A bell chimed above Nessa’s head as the door closed, ringing out across the cramped space. The air was thick with the smell of herbs and incense, making her sneeze and her eyes water. Nessa blinked heavily. Her eyes, though burning, slowly adjusted to the gloom, and she found herself standing at the entrance to a labyrinth of shelves.
“Hmm, Hunter’s right,” Nessa murmured, looking around and hurrying after him. “It is strange in here.”
Free standing bookshelves held all manner of things, from bundles of dried herbs and flowers, books and crystals, to ornamental daggers. It wasn’t so much what the shop sold that made it strange, though that didn’t help matters, but the feeling that Nessa got when she walked past certain things; as if some part of her knew they weren’t used for good.
A noise came from the back, a creak of a floorboard, and Hunter moved towards it, Nessa sticking close to him. The narrow walkway led them around a corner, and took them up behind a woman who was knelt down on the floor, facing away from them, bent over a collection of jars, busy filling them with shimmering powders.
Hunter leaned a shoulder against a bookshelf and the woman’s shoulders tensed. She paused in her task and turned, rising to her feet, her eyes instantly landing on Nessa, who immediately recognised her. She was the woman who had accompanied the doctor.
Nessa shifted, growing uncomfortable under the woman’s heavy gaze, swearing that she wasn’t even blinking. It felt as it had last night, as if the woman’s whiskey coloured eyes saw through flesh and bone and could see into Nessa’s soul.
Hunter frowned, looking between the two of them, and then stepped in front of Nessa, severing the woman’s stare, much to Nessa’s relief.
“That’s enough, Helen,” he said quietly, but with an undertone of warning. “We need to talk.”
The woman, Helen, scoffed. “I’m busy. Go away.”
“Helen, please.”
“No,” Helen barked. “Leave and take that with you.” She flung out her arm, pointing a finger at Nessa, who flinched at the venom in her voice.
Hunter moved forward, grabbing Helen and shoving her over to the storeroom door a short distance way. “Don’t leave the shop,” he said over his shoulder, yanking it open and pushing Helen through, following after her. “I’ll be back shortly.”
Nessa stared, opened mouthed, as the door slammed shut. What had she ever done to make Helen hate her so? she asked herself. Surely nothing, Nessa reasoned, because she hadn’t even had a chance to speak to Helen yet, not a single word. Maybe she blamed Nessa for Hunter’s injury last night?
Nessa didn’t let herself dwell on the matter for long, once she remembered that she was finding out how to get back home. Then this place would be nothing more than a bad memory, easy to put behind her and forget.
Hunter was gone for some time, no doubt enjoying more of Helen’s delightfulness, and Nessa’s curiosity got the better of her. Slowly, she perused the shelves, running her fingers over the intriguing things housed there. A diminutive silver box caught her eye, and when Nessa opened it, she found a collection of children’s teeth inside. She grimaced and moved on, feeling a little sick, and meandered further into the heart of the shop. Figurines were dotted around, some small, some not so, but each and every one of them was stunning. Many of them were metal and depicted men in battle, either man fighting against man, or man fighting against beast. A few however, gave Nessa a chill as her fingers brushed over them, creatures so frightful that Nessa hoped they didn’t exist and were just the fanciful ideas of an artist.
She turned a corner and the next row of shelves were occupied by knives and ornate daggers. They were either resting on velvet pillows or presented on small stands, the blades glinting with a malevolent sheen. Nessa had no doubt that the edges were razor sharp. Another corner and she came upon rows and rows of books, some thick, some thin, some small and some tall, but each and every one of them had gold or silver inlay on the spine. They were of every imagined colour, a rainbow of light in the otherwise bleak shop, and Nessa’s fingers skimmed over them, as gentle as a butterfly’s wing, feeling the textures of leather and suede and cloth.
They spoke to her, whispering sweet things in her ears, promises of being filled with knowledge and stories, and one of them was louder than the others.
Nessa’s fingers hit a sudden dip and grazed against a small book. It sang to her, calling for her attention. She paused and looked at it, finding it tucked between two larger tomes, small and nondescript compared to them. She slipped it free and discovered that its red cover was without a title or mark, and that its pages were free from ink and words.
Nessa flicked through it, expecting to find something, but each creamy page was empty. “I wonder what’s special about you,” she murmured to it. It was a diary, she thought, an old and forgotten one. It was odd, though, for the pages were oddly thick and rough around the edges. She caressed one, wondering why the little book had called out to her.
It was then that the most peculiar thing happened.
Slowly appearing on the page, as if bleeding through from the one behind, was a line of elegant scripture in deep purple ink.
I am the book of all things known, it read.
Nessa stared as the ink faded.
She thought that it must have been a figment of her imagination, that she was going mad, but then it happened again.
I am the book of all things known, it said, the ink slowly bleeding back onto the page.
Nessa frowned and turned over to the next page, finding it empty.
I am the book of all things known, once again appeared on the page. What are you?
Nessa dipped a toe into the insanity that was unfolding in front of her. “I’m a human,” she said quietly, answering the book’s question.
Perhaps you are, said the book, but perhaps not. What are you?
“I’m a girl, a person,” Nessa murmured.
Yes, the books said, but also no. You are something not encountered before. What are you?
The front door’s bell chimed, gently knocking Nessa out of the book’s thrall. Automatically she looked over her shoulder, but the rows of shelves hid the door from sight, preventing her from seeing who had entered.
When Nessa looked down at the book, she found that the ink was gone, and she hastily shoved it back between the other books. Apprehension grew in her stomach, and for the second time in just a few short hours, Nessa was questioning herself.
Nessa continued with her exploration, listening out for Hunter or the person who had just come in, but the shop was quiet. She thought that maybe the latter had opened the door, smelt the incense, and had been repelled. Hunter, she presumed, hadn’t made much headway with Helen yet.
Somehow, Nessa found herself at the front of the shop, in a corner next to the window. On the floor, pushed up against the wall, was a large glass tank, filled with murky green water. The top was covered in a thick layer of mottled algae, and fine wire mesh fitted over the tank like a lid. Curious as to what might be lurking in there, Nessa crouched down, looking for any signs of life.
A moment later the water rippled with movement, the blanket of algae bobbing and then splitting, parting like curtains down the middle by a pair of tiny webbed hands. A head emerged and overly large green eyes gazed balefully up at Nessa.
She stared at the creature in awe, taking in its alien features of light green skin, pointed ears and long greenish-black hair. It was the size of a child’s doll, and was as beautiful as it was strange.
Neither of them seemed to know what to make of the other, then the rustle of cloth whispered behind Nessa.
Without looking away, she asked, “What is it?”
“It’s a water sprite,” rumbled a deep voice that didn’t belong to Hunter.
Nessa jerked, about to twist around, when something painfully cold and sharp pressed against the side of her neck.
“What do you want?” Nessa demanded, hating how her voice trembled just a little bit. Her hands clench
ed into fists and her body tensed. Every possible thought leapt around in her head. Should she try to fight, to run? Or should she do as she was bid?
“You, sweetheart.” The blade pressed harder under her jawbone, threatening to puncture the delicate skin. “Now stand up.”
With shaking knees, Nessa complied, and for a split second the blade left her neck. Instantly, Nessa drove back her elbow, striking the man in the gut. His breath left him with a muffled ‘Oomph,’ and she made to run.
Nessa barely made it a step before her assailant’s hand tangled in her hair, and she was yanked off her feet. She landed on the floor painfully, stunned, and the man grabbed her arms, pulling them behind her back. Nessa yelped and the man gave her an angry shake, strong enough to rattle her teeth.
“Be quiet,” he growled, beginning to bind her wrists together with a length of rope.
There was a low thump and the man’s hands went limp. He groaned and fell to the side, and Nessa scurried away from him, the unfinished bindings slipping free. Bewildered, she looked up.
Hunter was standing over the man, his arm raised, a heavy statue in his hand. “Can’t leave you alone for ten minutes without you getting into some kind of trouble, can I?” he said, putting the statue back on the shelf.
“This wasn’t my fault,” Nessa argued, picking herself up. “I stayed in the shop, just as ordered.”
Humming in consternation, Hunter crouched down by the unconscious man, who lay sprawled on his back. He was stocky with thinning hair and a square jaw, average looking except for the tattoo that marked his left cheek. Once black, it had faded to a dull grey, making it look more like a birthmark, although it was too strangely shaped for that. Nessa peered at it, thinking that it looked like a snake, loose and uncoiled.
Hunter whistled and nodded at the mark. “He’s a bounty hunter.”
Quickly patting down the man’s pockets, Hunter pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and placed it on the floor, smoothing it out. Printed in black and white were images of her and Hunter, complete with a brief description and their bounty price. Not knowing what the value of a hundred gold caps was, Nessa had to ask.
“A lot,” Hunter answered grimly. “Enough to have every lowlife out there looking for us.” He stood, crumpling the paper in his hand. “Come on, we should get moving before anyone else finds us.” Nessa nodded, more than happy to leave the shop and to get as far away as possible from the unconscious bounty hunter.
Just as she got to the door, Nessa gazed over her shoulder at the tank. The little water sprite was watching their departure with wide eyes, and when it noticed Nessa looking back, it raised one tiny hand in farewell.
∞∞∞
Hunter took a different route back to the inn, avoiding the market and other busy areas. They went via the back alleys. It took longer, but the less people around, the lower the chances of them being noticed. Nessa was lost in her thoughts for most of the journey. That seemed to suit Hunter just fine, since he set a fast pace with a frown on his face.
Why had Margan gone to all the effort of bringing me here? Nessa kept wondering. Why me above all others?
“Hunter, why did Helen refer to me as a ‘that?’”
Hunter looked at her, surprised. “Don’t read too much into it. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”
“What is she talking about then?”
“I’m not really sure,” Hunter said elusively. “Just a bunch of mumbo-jumbo.”
Nessa scowled at his back, annoyed that was all he was going to say. “That makes me feel so much better,” she muttered as they turned down an alley that ended in a wooden gate.
It opened onto the courtyard behind the inn, and they crossed over to the kitchen, which was just as busy as it had been when they’d left. Leaving a trail of muddy footprints, Hunter went over to the stairs, starting up them. Having nowhere else to go, Nessa followed, beginning to feel like a lost puppy.
Her bag was where it had been left, untouched, with the orb still inside. Nessa perched on the edge of the bed and pulled it onto her lap, wrapping her arms around it. Hunter closed the door and leaned against it, his eyes darting between her face and the bag. Nessa pretended not to notice.
“So, what now?” she asked. Hunter swiped a hand over his face, as if he could wipe away the weariness there. “Well, it’s up to you really.”
Nessa’s brows rose. “How so?”
“My dear friend Orm seems to be quite elusive these days, apparently gone into hiding after angering a lord or something,” Hunter explained, moving away from the door to sit beside her. “Helen says that he’s most likely gone to The Hidden City until things blow over.”
“The Hidden City?”
Hunter nodded. “All things considered, if he is actually there, it’s the best case scenario. It’s one of the closer hiding places Orm keeps.”
“Okay,” Nessa said, feeling slightly more upbeat. “That sounds good.”
“It’s better than some of the other places he could have gone,” Hunter agreed, leaning forward and propping his elbows on his knees. “But I had hoped that he would be a little closer.”
Nessa fiddled with a buckle on the bag, growing worried. “So where is this Hidden City then, is it that far away?”
“It’s a bit of a trek, but it won’t take too long, a week or so on foot, faster if we had horses. But that’s not what concerns me. I just don’t want to drag you along on a long journey only for him not to be there.”
“It is a long way to go,” Nessa admitted. “But if he’s not there, he’ll be somewhere else, right? We’ll just keep our fingers crossed and hope that we find him sooner rather than later.”
Hunter nodded, a slow grin forming. “Optimistic thinking. I like it. So you want to go?”
Nessa considered her options, or rather, her lack of options. She had the choice to either stay or to go, and the thought of leaving Ironguard far behind was a very pleasant one. The idea of Margan getting his hands on her again was chilling. Nessa remembered his threat when he had presented the orb to her, the dark promises in his eyes. She didn’t think that escaping the prison, running away with Hunter, and taking the orb with her was a particularly great way of getting into his good graces.
Yes, it was probably best to put as much distance between Margan and her as possible.
“We go,” Nessa decided. “I think finding your friend is my best chance of getting back home. Plus, he might be able to answer a few other questions, like what this orb is and how my waking dream…thing works.”
“Quite likely.”
“So, we’re going to The Hidden City?”
“We’re going to The Hidden City.” Hunter clapped his hands, excited, and bounced off the bed. “Best start packing. We’ll leave the city come sundown.”
Nessa was surprised. “So soon?”
“The sooner the better,” Hunter replied, a mischievous glint entering his eyes. “Why? Is there something keeping you here?”
“No, and you know that. I just thought that you might want to, you know, make plans and get supplies. Stuff like that.”
“Now, why would I need to get supplies when there is a very well stocked kitchen downstairs?” Hunter moved over to the chest of drawers and rifled through it, finding three bags. He tossed one to Nessa, who just about caught it before it slapped her in the face.
“One bag for you, one for me, and the other for provisions,” Hunter sang.
“Hate to rain on your excitement,” Nessa said, “but I have nothing to pack. You know, since I’m not from here.”
“Just take things from your room. Margret won’t mind.”
Nessa wasn’t quite so sure that Margret would appreciate some strange girl stealing some of her clothing; but since that was what Hunter said to do, Nessa did it, seeing that she couldn’t be bothered to argue. She picked up the orb, and as Hunter began to stuff clothing unceremoniously into his bag, Nessa left to pack her own.
Not bothering to shut the door
behind her, Nessa placed the orb on the bed and opened the empty bag. She went over to the chest of drawers and began looking for some suitable clothing. The bottom drawer held spare bedding, but the other three held an abundance of options for her to choose from.
Nessa picked out a few changes of clothing; a pair of dress-tops like the one she was wearing and a couple of spare leggings. She also selected a cardigan, in case things got chilly. Remembering the long dresses that some of the woman wore, Nessa rummaged around until she found a simple dress that consisted of a long, plain gown and a surcoat that was edged with ornamental trim. It wasn’t nearly as spectacular as the red dress from the market, but it was quite pretty, and it would have to do.
Nessa neatly packed her bag, folding each item, and then left it on the bed next to her messenger bag.
She crossed the hall and found Hunter half under his bed.
“You alright there?” she asked, amused.
“I’m fine,” came his muffled reply. “It’s really dusty under here.”
“Good to know.”
With a bit more wriggling, shuffling and a few muttered swearwords, Hunter managed to extract himself from the narrow gap, pulling with him two large bundles. Standing, he set them next to his packed bag.
“And there,” he announced, “are our luxurious sleeping accommodations.”
Nessa eyed the bundles doubtfully, realising that they were, in fact, sleeping bags. “Aren’t there, I don’t know, other inns on the way that we could spend the nights in?”
“Of course there are. But with those warrants out on us, bounty hunters are going to be searching them in case we’re there.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” The pleasant idea of a leisurely week-long stroll, sleeping in warm inns and waking up to a hearty breakfast vanished, replaced by the memory of how cold the nights could get. “I hate camping.”
“That’s just because you haven’t done it with me before.”
“On the subject of those warrants, how do we go about leaving the city without being recognised? Surely we don’t want anyone knowing where we’re going.”
“Indeed we don’t,” Hunter agreed. “But I know a secret way out of Ironguard, one which allows us to avoid using the main gates. Once it starts getting dark, there’ll be less people out on the streets too.”
House of Fear and Freedom (The Wyrd Sequence Book 1) Page 12
